


Trust Fall

by owlaholic68



Series: Fallout NSFW [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, F/F, Light Bondage, Lingerie, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: First Citizen Lynette finds a relic. Carla proposes a contest.A sequel to"Relax".





	Trust Fall

“Hey, Joanne.” Carla leans against the doorframe. 

First Citizen Lynette grits her teeth, bristling at the casual flippancy and the use of her first name. “I trust you received my letter.” She waves Carla inside, closing the door to her personal chambers behind her. Carla tosses her bag into a corner and straddles a chair, pulling it along the floor with a scraping sound that makes Lynette wince. 

“Of course, why else would I be here? For my health and well-being?” 

A short silence after she speaks. Lynette seems to be struggling with what to say, obviously torn. Carla lets her stew: the power dynamic between them is that, if Lynette asks Carla to do something, it’s a large enough show of submission that she’ll do it. And that’s why Carla’s here. That’s why, when she had read Lynette’s letter, she’d adjusted her route to pass through Vault City: it’s not often that she gets to feel in control of anything in her life. Just as Lynette finds solace in powerlessness, Carla finds it in domination. 

“I have a...surprise,” Lynette finally says. “I found something in the Vault’s storage.” 

Carla crosses her arms on the back of the chair and rests her chin on them. “Well, how about you show me.” She phrases it as an order, not a question, her voice dipping lower. 

“I-yes, Carla.” Joanne jumps, her back straightening. She ducks into her bedroom and comes back out with a small box in her smooth hands, hands that had never seen a day of hard labor, skin unmarked and rich. 

The box is powder blue and white with a delicate flower pattern. Lynette takes the lid off and sets it to the side. The object inside is shaped vaguely like a laser pistol with a small rotating disk on the end of the barrel. When Carla picks it up to examine it, she runs her finger over the light blue finish, tapping at the hard plastic. Well-made. Sturdy, to have lasted all these years. 

She hits a switch where the trigger would be and almost drops the object as it starts vibrating in her hands, the disk on the end spinning and shaking. She hurriedly switches it off. 

“Oh.” She taps the plastic again, noting a spot to recharge it with small energy cells. “ _ Oh. _ ” Tap, tap, tap. “How about a game, Joanne?” 

“A game?” She seems openly confused. 

“Yes, a game.” Tap, tap. Lynette is frowning down at Carla’s fingers, annoyed by the noise. She taps a few times again, kicks her heels against the chair legs, just because she can, just to watch her squirm. “This thing seems pretty strong. Like you’re only going to last a minute, tops. So how about this: we take turns. Whoever lasts the longest wins.” 

Lynette swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably, still standing in front of Carla. “I agree. What does the winner receive?” 

“Whatever they want.” Carla’s grin widens. “What would you want if you win, Joanna?” 

“Joanne,” she corrects, her voice an irritated snarl. “I want you to do what you did last time. I want you with your face between my legs.” 

She shrugs. “Alright. I agree to those terms. And if  _ I  _ win, well, pick a number between one and, let’s say, five.” 

“...three.” Lynette is staring at her suspiciously. 

“Good number. Then I make you orgasm another three times in a row.” Carla pauses to assess her reaction. Lynette sucks in a breath, her eyes alarmed, her hands clenched into fists. “Well, do you agree? I can always pick something else, I have  _ many  _ ideas.” 

Lynette clears her throat. She opens her mouth to speak, but her words fail her. She clears her throat again. “Yes,” she chokes out, “I agree.” 

“Good. Do you want to be tied up?” Carla wants to push her, wants to make Lynette comfortable with herself to be vulnerable. And the best way to do that is to do things that she would never be brave enough to ask for.

She squeaks, her cheeks dark. She’s staring at the floor. “Yes, but not too tight to hurt. I have scarves in my dresser you can use.” 

“So you’re not into pain? Spanking, hitting?” 

She shakes her head. “No.” 

“Biting?” 

“A little. Marks are fine.” 

“Anal?” 

“What?” That little jump when Lynette gets surprised by one of her questions, Carla’s realized that that means she’s hit upon something. Lynette is getting ratcheted up slowly by the questioning. She starts pacing between the table and the wall. “Can’t we just get this over with?” 

Carla sighs. “No. Answer the question or I won’t do it.” 

Lynette whirls. “Fine! Yes! Why do you have to  _ humiliate  _ me like this?”

“Humiliate you? In front of  _ who _ , Joanne?” Carla waves a hand to the empty room. “There’s no one here but the two of us. And I’m not trying to be judgemental or whatever you think I’m doing. I just don’t want to do something that you don’t want to do.” 

She grinds her teeth, the sound audible in the silence. “Fine. Can we just  _ please  _ begin? You can go first with it if you want.” 

It’s obvious that she’s not going to be able to push any further. But it’s already a good start. 

Carla goes first. She undresses, slowly, at first by herself, then with Lynette helping her, her nimble fingers brushing hair as she unbuttons Carla’s pants. This is the most sensual the two of them have been, Lynette pressing open-mouthed kisses to Carla’s collarbone, putting a hand under her hips to lift them, slipping her pants off. 

The back of the wooden chair digs into Carla’s shoulders, the edges of the seat poking at her bare thighs, the polished surface cold under her skin. She reaches down to the pile of clothing and plucks her Pip-Boy, switching it to the stopwatch function and setting the device on the table next to her.

“Timer starts now, once clothes are off,” she says. 

“No touching yourself,” Lynette says in reply, her hands on Carla’s thighs. 

She puts her hands behind her head. “Agreed. You can use whatever you want to warm up, but the main thing has to be the vibrator.” 

“Three, two, one…” 

And she begins. 

Carla’s hips jerk upwards as Lynette starts with an old trick, one that she learned from Carla herself. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling before lowering her head to admire the view of Lynette’s head between her thighs, her curly hair tickling Carla’s skin. She keeps her breathing even, slow, calm. She’s not going to lose this contest. 

Still, she has to bite her lip to muffle a moan, her fingers clenching and unclenching in her hair, her thighs held open by one of Lynette’s hands pressing finger-shaped marks into her flesh. It’s been a minute. Lynette raises her head and keeps Carla busy with one hand, grabbing the vibrator with the other. They lock eyes, an intimate glance that makes Carla’s eyes widen. 

Then a soft click and a loud hum.

It’s a good thing that they’re somewhere private, because Carla lets loose a loud groan that tears free from her throat, her back arching. Breathe, breathe, she repeats to herself. She needs to last longer than this. She blinks rapidly, her legs starting to shake. 

“If this wasn’t a contest to make you come as quickly as possible,” Lynette says, shifting the vibrator, pressing it a little more firmly against Carla, “I’d love to get some revenge for last time. Draw you out, make you beg. Maybe that’s what I should do if I win.” 

“Sounds great,” she gasps, managing a smug grin, “too bad you’re not going to win.” Two minutes.

The sound gets louder, turning into a whirring buzz. Two and a half minutes. 

She’s not going to be able to hold out much longer, and she knows it. Still, she manages to keep going, until she simply can’t any longer. Her orgasm draws a raw sound out of her, a keening gasp, her chest heaving, her lips in the shape of Lynette’s name. Her toes curl and her knees bounce, her nails dragging down her scalp.

“Three minutes and two seconds,” Lynette says after she’s guided Carla back down from her high.

“Not bad. Now it’s my turn.” Carla snags a bottle of purified water before standing on shaky legs, one hand on the back of the chair to steady herself. She resets the timer, but doesn’t start it yet. Lynette wipes down the vibrator before setting it back on the table and turning to Carla.

She wraps a hand around Lynette’s neck and pulls her in for a kiss, her other hand trailing down the other woman’s chest, unzipping her vault suit and pulling it down. The fabric of the suit is sturdy and practical, slightly rough, which is why it’s so noticeable when Carla’s fingers hit something satiny smooth. 

Last time, Lynette had been wearing her normal undergarments, basic Vault-issued cotton. But what she’s wearing now is something completely different. Carla breaks the kiss and yanks the zipper down all the way, letting the suit pool around Lynette’s ankles. 

“Like what you see?” She challenges.

“Very much,” Carla says. She rubs the edge black lace of the bra between her fingers, reaches down to caress Lynette’s thighs, which are covered by a pair of nylon stockings, thigh-high, held up by a black lace garter belt. Old World, exquisite, luxurious. She’s reluctant to take it off, so she doesn’t, only removing the black satin panties and throwing them aside. 

“Three, two, one.” 

Lynette puts her hands above her head. Carla begins. 

First, she presses Lynette against the wall, hiking up one of her legs to rest around her waist. Carla has two hands, and she’s going to use them well. One dips down and starts warming Lynette up, large strokes and warm pressure. The other cups her left breast, lifting it free from the lacy bra. Since she’s now out of hands, Carla dips her head down and lavishes attention on it. 

Lynette gasps and squirms, her chest pressing forward into Carla’s mouth, her leg twitching against Carla’s hip. Already a good start. 

The vibrator comes to life in her hands. It hasn’t been a minute yet. 

Contrary to what Lynette expects, she feels it first against her thigh, massaging her muscles. Then, it moves, slowly, up her body until the spinning appendage is resting in the dip between her leg and her hip. She holds her breath.

One minute. 

Lynette hums, her lips shut tight. But Carla is determined to see her fall apart, determined to see her struggle, so she moves her right hand, holding the vibrator, in small circles, pressing harder at random points, then decreasing the pressure. This pulls a whimper out of Lynette, her head falling back against the wall. Then she cries out, loud and without abandon, her legs spasming and shaking under Carla’s hand, trying to push back against the strain of having them spread. 

“N-not fair,” she gasps. “You haven’t even put it on the high setting, and I’m already- I’m almost-” 

“Yeah?” Carla challenges, pulling the vibrator back abruptly. “What was that, Joanne?” 

“Don’t you dare-” Lynette shrieks, her mouth contorting into a snarl, her shaking legs betraying her desperation. Two minutes. 

Carla flicks the setting to high and shoves it hard against Lynette, enjoying the scream from the other woman’s throat, her leg tightening around Carla’s waist. Lynette was gorgeous when she let herself relax, when she let herself just  _ exist _ , not bound by rules and regulations and protocol. 

Two minutes and fifteen seconds. 

Lynette is  _ fuming _ . 

Which is fine, because she’s about to get a lot of opportunities to work off that anger. Carla wants her exhausted at the end of this, wants her boneless and wide-eyed, wants to see her helpless and dizzy from pleasure, vulnerable in a way that will make Carla’s heart leap, because it’s been a long time since she’s been able to be free with someone, free to express her desires. 

“Well,” Carla says, taking Lynette’s arm and tugging her towards the bedroom, “how about we get started?” 

* * *

“Good?” Carla confirms. 

Lynette tugs on the scarves tying her hands to the headboard. She nods. “Good.” 

“Alright. And don’t forget: if you say stop, I stop.” 

“Are you quite done with all of this patronizing babble,” she sneers, glaring up at Carla, her thighs twitching, her stockings showing off her legs, “because I can handle myself just fine, I’m not a  _ weakling _ .” 

Carla gives her a look and Lynette quickly backpedals. 

“Fine, I know you like to take precautions,” she grumbles, directing her glare up to the ceiling. “Big softie tribal, too concerned about other people. It’s a wonder some junkie raider hasn’t shot you full of holes yet.” 

She decides to ignore that statement. She’ll make Lynette regret mouthing off, and she doesn’t need stern looks for that. She takes a deep breath and leans over Lynette. She’s got three orgasms to deliver; there’s no time to waste. 

Lynette squirms when Carla’s fingers trail down her stomach, dipping down even lower, tracing lines and squiggles in her skin, her thumb slowly teasing circles. Her breath is already starting to come heavy even before Carla slips one finger inside, relishing the quiet gasp that turns into a breathy moan when she doesn’t give her time to adjust before adding another one, curling both of them. 

Carla winds Lynette up like a toy until she breaks with Carla’s teeth on her neck, biting down gently, the other woman underneath her keening loud in her ear. 

“One down, two to go,” Carla says, smug, tracing Lynette’s cheek with a wet finger. She shivers.

She’s still shuddering from the first one when Carla starts on the second. She moans loud, her hands twisting in their restraints, her fingers grasping at nothing. “Carla, what are you doing, too fast, Carla-” Her chest is heaving, not enough time to breathe between the groans she’s trying to hold back. 

“What was that, Joanna?” Carla raises her head, licking her lips. “Sorry, I’m not too  _ concerned  _ with what you think right now.” 

Lynette looks like she wants to scream. In any other situation, such insolence would get someone thrown out of the city, or, if the person was particularly flippant like Carla, worse. “It’s  _ Joanne _ ,” she grits out. 

“I know,” she teases, grasping a handful of Lynette’s supple flesh with one hand, pulling it to spread her even further apart, her other hand tracing circles in a spot that makes Lynette jump, her hips jerking upwards and into Carla’s hand. “What was that? Did you like that, Joanne? How about you tell me a little something about how you feel.” 

She gasps. “Good. Please, Carla.” 

“Please  _ what _ ? There’s a lot I could do.” She brushes the same spot again but keeps pressure there now, her nails scraping gently. “What do you want: do you want my finger up your tight ass, Joanne?” She gets a scandalized gasp from that, but continues on, “or maybe we could go back to basics, some tongue action.” When Lynette says nothing, she stops moving her hand. “Answer me.” 

“Fine, tongue!” Lynette snaps, then abruptly softens. “Please.” 

That’s something that Carla is  _ good  _ at. Maybe Lynette should have picked something slower, something that wouldn’t have made her shudder and scream. All too soon, just from this, she’s tensing up again, her smooth thighs shaking and trying to close in on Carla’s head, a wonderfully rough groan prying itself loose from her throat, her head thrown back against the mattress. 

Carla gives her a minute to recover this time, tracing patterns across her chest and stomach. Lynette is limp under her, her unfocused eyes blinking up at the ceiling, her restrained arms loose and tired above her head. She lets Carla tweak her nipple with only a weak jump and a quiet whimper. 

A minute is not enough time to fully bounce back from this, and Carla knows it, tracing the curve of Lynette’s throat as she gasps for air. That doesn’t stop her from reaching behind her for the vibrator, turning it on with a click and grinning almost maniacally at the way Lynette’s eyes widen. 

There’s nothing quiet about Lynette when Carla presses the vibrator against her: what she lacks in ability to move, she makes up for in vocal strength. A wail escapes her, a cry that rings in Carla’s ears and urges her to increase the device to its higher setting, eating up Lynette’s desperate scream. This turned out to be a  _ very  _ good idea.

She didn’t have great expectations for how long Lynette was going to be able to last this time, and so Carla’s not surprised when she doesn’t make it past thirty seconds, orgasming hard with a broken sob. 

“Good?” Carla asks, deftly untying her hands and rubbing her wrists. 

“Good,” Lynette croaks, not able to resist when Carla turns her on her side and throws a blanket over her shoulders. She yawns, looking very vulnerable in that moment, trusting Carla enough to put her back to her. 

Carla stands beside the bed and strokes Lynette’s hair as she falls asleep within seconds. Then she turns away, silently redresses, grabs her bag and slips her feet into her shoes, and walks out Lynette’s door, closing it softly behind her, blinking in the midday light of Vault City.

**Author's Note:**

> Lord forgive me, but I am back on this...Every time I write Carla/Lynette, I hate myself a little more for having come up with the idea in the first place...
> 
> The vibrator is based of the 1950s vintage style seen [here.](https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/2kEAAOSwEY9Ziod8/s-l300.jpg)


End file.
